Harper’s face warmed under his gaze and his sly compliment.
Lauren nodded. “Harper is always camera ready.”
“Which is another way of saying she’s beautiful.” Isaac sat in the chair, his back straight and shoulders tight.
Harper busied herself with the makeup on the table, her thoughts scattered like powdered blush in a dust storm. Husband or not, she’d have to have a discussion about maintaining propriety and office protocol and not under any circumstance looking at her like that—ever again.
“Do your worst,” Isaac told Lauren.
Logan snickered as Lauren used several colored powders and a huge powder puff on Isaac. “Hey, if this doesn’t work out, you could sell cosmetics,” he teased his dad. “You’re worth it.” He mimicked a pouty model with an attitude.
“You’re not funny,” Isaac replied.
Their back-and-forth came easy—not at all like the conversations between Harper and Isaac. Maybe if she could loosen up a little and not worry so much about the way Isaac made her feel, she could put them all at ease. Feeling a little camaraderie with Logan, Harper leaned against the counter. “The kid’s got a point. With your boy-band hair and scruffy jaw, you’d do well.”
Isaac held up his hands. “Okay, we’re done here.” He jumped from the seat.
Harper laughed and shared a wink with Logan. He gave her an approving lift of his chin, and Harper decided that having a teenager around wouldn’t be a bad thing.
Lauren let out a disgruntled sigh. “Don’t blame me if you start to glow on camera.”
“Glow?” Logan looked back and forth between Isaac and Lauren. “What kind of powder is that?”
“Not glow like glow. Glow as in sweat,” Lauren clarified.
“I don’t think it’s the cameras we have to worry about,” muttered Harper.
Just then, Jeff Hickman hustled into the room. He stalked from side to side as his arms flew up and down. “What’s the press doing here? If there’s been a trade, I should know before the rest of the world. Have a little decency and respect, will you?” The general manager stopped and planted his feet.
Women were supposed to be full of drama, but men could act like crazy chickens without batting an eyelash. “There hasn’t been a trade.”
“Oh?” His white caterpillar eyebrows lowered so far his eyes disappeared. “Then what the—” He cleared his throat and his language. “Is going on?”
Holding her hand out to indicate the newest additions to the team, Harper said, “Jeff Hickman, I’d like you to meet our new manager, Isaac Wolfe, and his son Logan.”
Jeff muttered, “You can’t be serious.”
Harper let her smile melt into a look of determination. “Oh, but I am.” Serious enough to marry him.
Jeff wasn’t about to make nice. “He doesn’t have the experience. A couple seasons in triple A and a few years under a half-wit head coach for the Bulldogs? No way.” He spun on Isaac. “Have you signed a contract?”
Harper cringed. While Jeff’s knowledge of Isaac’s small career was impressive, he could make the transition hard on Isaac. Much harder than need be. Harper had been so caught up in the marriage contract, she’d forgotten the coaching contract. They probably should have taken care of that before the press conference …
Isaac shook his head. His smile shrank by half, and Harper kicked herself for not giving him the solid feeling of a coaching contract behind him. She should have prepared better, but really, what was she supposed to do? In the history of baseball, not one woman had ever hired her husband to manage a team. She was in new territory both professionally and personally. There weren’t road maps for the path she trod and she was doing her best to make this up as she went.
“You’re running this team into the ground.” Jeff shook his finger in Harper’s direction. His voice lowered. “Either you bring in an experienced manager, or I’ll quit.”
Harper held back her scream. After weeks of hard work, sweat, and more than a few tears, she’d just gotten a manager; how in the world would she replace a general manager too? It wasn’t like there were websites where coaches posted résumés and lined up job interviews. The MLB was all about who you knew, and she didn’t know many and had burned a few bridges while looking for Isaac. Lifting her palms, she sighed. If Jeff walked out, the Redrocks were finished and so was she. “I can’t replace him.”
“Why not?” demanded Jeff.
“Because I married him.” Harper admitted her nuptials like a seventeen-year-old runaway.
Lauren let out a small gasp. She dropped the powder puff and dove after it.
Logan bobbed his head like a proud turkey.
Isaac squared his shoulders.
Unlike Harper, Jeff didn’t hold back his scream of frustration.
Great! They heard that in the press room.
“I don’t know if I should jump ship now or wait until you freeze in the water.”
Harper scrambled mentally, but physically, she retained her cool demeanor. At least, she hoped she was putting out a confident air. “Either way, I’ll make sure your name never comes up. You’re good at what you do. Dad had a vision for this team and I think you caught a glimpse of it every now and again.”
Jeff’s caterpillars went up, down, and somehow out to the sides.
He didn’t storm out, so she pressed on. “Dad wanted to compete right out of the gate. He signed some heavy contracts with established players, but they’re wearing out and not performing. We need someone young enough to light a fire under them again.”
Watching the bluster leave Jeff was like watching a parade balloon with a leak. “I have one year left on my contract. I’ll finish it out, but I’m not making any promises.”
“Fair enough.”
Jeff strode from the room, shaking his head.
Well, that went well. Harper turned to find Isaac watching her, his chin pulled in and his shoulders up. Was it his decision to become a manager that bothered him? Was he doubting his decision to marry her? Or maybe, just maybe, was he having as hard of a time separating the two as she was?
“Are you planning on dropping the bomb during the press conference too?” he asked as he followed her out the door and down the hall to the press room.
Harper placed her hand on his shoulder and then quickly removed it. “I’ll ease into it.” She took a deep breath. Time to face the firing squad.
* * *
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming today. I have a couple of announcements.” Harper made sure to make eye contact with several people in the audience as she spoke. Her pageant queen mother would be proud of the number of teeth she showed despite the major fit of nerves she had going on. “As you are aware, our manager position has been recently vacated. The search for a manager in the early season is not an easy one. Though there have been several prospects, one stood out above the rest. I’m pleased to introduce Isaac Wolfe.”
Several faces registered shock. Others narrowed their eyes, determined to find the story behind the story. The joke was on them. She planned to dish out more information than their phones and laptops could handle.
From his spot to her right, Isaac waved, a half smile on his face. They’d have to work on that.
Of course, there were several coaches who had horrible media skills and still ran their teams well. While those guys had the pressure of the job, they didn’t have the added stress of a fledging team, issues in the locker room, and dwindling ticket sales. Whatever advantage she could give Isaac would help them both and help the Redrocks. Interview lessons would have to happen.
Leaning closer to the mic and lowering her voice, Harper continued, “Because I know you all love a good story, I should also point out that Isaac is also my husband.” The room exploded in a flood of flashes, hands waving to gain her attention, and people calling her and Isaac’s names.
Instead of jumping into the fray, Isaac leaned over to whisper in her ear, the scent of his cologne filling Harper’s aware
ness. Deep, masculine, and burnt umber-ish, his closeness heady. “That’s your way of easing into it?” He tugged his tie, moving it off center.
Unable to help herself, because she had to touch him, if only to center herself, Harper straightened it for him. “Too fast?” she asked, her voice low and somewhat husky.
“Normally, I like fast.” He lifted an eyebrow, all bad-boy innocence—or not so innocent, she wasn’t sure. “Do you want me to take it from here?”
She cleared her throat. “Thanks, but I got this.” She so did not have this, but she was enjoying the exchange.
He tipped his head toward the melodrama. “It’s your team.”
Harper pulled away, blinking. It’s not my team. It’s Dad’s team … What would Dad do?
“Ladies and gentlemen, my assistant has prepared a fact sheet. We will not be fielding any questions of a personal nature today. Please keep your questions centered on the team.” The fact sheet was, in fact, a summary of Isaac’s work history and a brief paragraph explaining that they had been introduced by a mutual friend and preferred to keep their family and home life out of the public eyes as much as possible. Having prepared it on the plane, she’d purposefully left Logan’s name off the sheet, hoping to keep the minor away from the press. Although, now that she’d spent some time with him, she figured he could roll with things.
“Mr. Wolfe, can you give us your starting lineup?”
Isaac leaned towards the mic on the table. “That will be given out in the pregame release on Friday.”
A murmur of approval went through the group. Not that Harper and Isaac were seeking approval by any means. Isaac’s answer had been mature and showed he had an understanding of how to handle the media.
Harper felt Isaac’s knee bump hers under the table. Ruffle feathers indeed. He may not be ruffling feathers, but that contact was doing all sorts of things to Harper.
“What do you think of Jackson Kimber’s recent activities in Las Vegas?”
Harper sucked in through her wooden smile at the mention of Jackson. He played hard both on and off the field. They say there’s no such thing as bad publicity, but she had a hard time believing it where Jackson was concerned. Not only was he their biggest liability, he was also their biggest star.
“As long as Kimber can keep his private life off the mound and out of jail and continues to pitch well, I won’t have anything to say about his time outside of this organization,” said Isaac.
The fact sheets had made it around the room and there were several bent heads as reporters made sure they weren’t asking something that was already provided. Harper reviewed the information in her head, making sure they hadn’t said too much or held back enough that it created curiosity.
“Mrs. Wolfe?”
Isaac elbowed her lightly and Harper focused her eyes, realizing the man in the plaid shirt had called her Mrs. Wolfe a couple of times, and the name hadn’t registered as her own. She’d have to work on that. “Yes?”
“In light of what happened with the Bulldogs, are you at all worried about Mr. Wolfe assimilating into the Redrock organization?”
Harper lifted her chin. “Not at all. In fact, it was because of Isaac’s actions that I knew he was the man for the job.” She swallowed heavily. “Dad believed that a person’s character was more important than his experience. He often promoted those who were willing to work the hardest and lay it all on the line. I believe he would have liked Mr. Wolfe very much.” She dabbed at the gathering moisture in her eyes with her fingers. Tears weren’t on the schedule, but as the words left her mouth, the truth of them sank into her chest.
Isaac’s mouth fell open for just a moment before he regained his composure. Harper’s honesty had sideswiped him just as much as it had hit her. She met the gratitude in his gaze with one of her own. Feeling the air charge with something she’d rather not have broadcast on the five o’clock news, Harper stood to leave before things fell apart—or she fell apart emotionally. “That will be all for today. Thank you.”
Isaac stood quickly and held the back of her chair. Questions followed them across the small stage.
A familiar nasal voice rose above the others. The same man who had called her that name not five days ago. Tommy Stouvier played high school ball but didn’t make the college level. He was as mean as he was ambitious. Harper heard that he’d pushed out a long-standing local reporter to get this beat. His beady brown eyes were full of venom. “Mr. Wolfe, did you marry her just to get the job?”
Harper went to flip around and found Isaac’s hand on her back, propelling her out the door. “Don’t answer that,” he whispered in her ear. His strength and good advice got her out the door.
Once back in the prep room with Logan and Lauren, Isaac released her and smiled easily. “They were more impressed that I married you than they were that I got the job.”
Logan offered him a fist bump. Isaac chuckled as they connected.
She tried to shake off the sense of filth Tommy Stouvier managed to leave behind. Why he had it in for her she’d never know. Yeah, Isaac had married her to get the job, but that didn’t make her cheap or for sale. “Yeah right. Until you, the youngest manager was Kevin Cash at 36. You’re quite the novelty.”
“His contract is for five years; Dad’s is for one,” Logan added. “They’ll be on him to perform or they’ll hang him out to dry.”
“True,” Isaac countered. “But I make more money.”
“And you got Harper.” Logan winked at her.
Maybe there was a little of the jerk’s cynicism in the air, or maybe Harper’s old insecurities of being left out by her dad and brother surfaced. Either way, she scowled. “Would you like to see your office?”
* * *
The elevator opened up to the third floor. A small sitting area and another receptionist’s desk sat in front of a large bay window that provided a nice view of right field. When watching games on television, the stadiums appear large enough that you wonder why anyone would pay for a seat in home run territory. That was a trick of the wide-angle lens. The stadiums were manageable and the view from the cheap seats was quite intimate to the game.
“Miss, er, Mrs., er, um,” the receptionist stuttered.
News travels fast in this place. Harper placed her hand on Vivian’s arm. “Mrs. Wolfe, please.” Might as well get myself used to the name too. She watched Isaac out of the corner of her eye to catch his reaction. He was staring at the big screen television, where the latest MLB stats rolled across the bottom of the screen. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his cheek lifted slightly. Harper’s pulse quickened and she snapped her attention back to the receptionist.
Vivian’s thick shoulders went up as she breathed in and dropped quickly as she released her breath. “Okay. Your brother is on the phone.”
She adjusted her laptop bag over her shoulder. That will be a fun conversation. “Tell him I’ll call him back.”
“He’s rather insistent.”
“I’m sure he is. I would be too if he announced on a national sports network that he was married and I hadn’t been invited to the wedding.” Vivian’s eyes widened. Harper kicked herself for letting her thoughts slip through. Maintaining what she hoped was a professional demeanor, she continued, “Nevertheless, he’ll have to wait.”
Isaac fell into step beside her as they moved towards his office. “That’s not good.” He rubbed his forehead. “I don’t want to cause problems with your family.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t see your siblings at the ceremony.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Parents?”
“Nope. I was a foster kid.” He loosened and removed his tie, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt.
She stared. “You have no one?”
He paused, his jaw taking a serious edge. “I have Logan and I have baseball. It’s enough.”
I am the jerkiest jerk sister in the whole wide world.
Here was Isaac, making his way through life
as a single parent without a family to support him, and Harper had denied her support group an invitation to her wedding.
Seth may have been the golden child—and she might resent that—but that wasn’t his fault. Plus, he never treated her like she was less than him. They’d always gotten along and even conspired together once upon a Neverland game or two. She would call him back and apologize as soon as possible.
“Well, here we are.” She spread her arms, indicating Isaac’s office space.
Logan dropped into a chair by the door, engrossed in his phone. He was a cute guy; maybe he had a girlfriend … She’d have to ask him. Then again, maybe he wasn’t girl crazy yet. Didn’t that happen right around fourteen or fifteen for guys? She really had no idea.
Isaac wandered into the room and turned in a full circle. He too had a window that looked out over right field. If the half-grin on his face and the very Logan-like bob of his head was any indication, he appreciated the view. Rapping his knuckles against the desk, he sat in the padded leather chair and swiveled to the window. “I like it.”
“That’s good.” Because we don’t have funds to remodel right now.
There was a tap at the door that brought her head around. “Max,” she blurted upon seeing the VP of Business Operations. His copper-colored hair, long for him, frizzed up from his scalp, like a cartoon who stuck his finger in a light socket.
Max sniffed. “What’s going on, Harper?” His entrance into the office was like a boxer entering the ring.
How do you do to you too? “I was just introducing our new head coach to his upstairs office.” She made quick work of the introductions.
Max crossed the room like he owned it and thrust his hand across the desk. “Louisiana State man, right?”
Isaac nodded. “Played all four years.”
“I’m a Rebel man myself. We beat you guys in the last three games.”
“You’ve never beaten us in a playoff game, though. That’s when we shine.”
Max grunted.
Lauren popped in—well, stumbled was more like it—and she was out of breath. “Sorry, boss. Pederton is on line one.”
The Athletic Groom: Billionaire Marriage Brokers Page 6